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Perhaps Soichiro Honda was a Yankee pioneer in a previous incarnation. His approach to life certainly would’ve been more at home in America’s Wild West than it was in traditional Japanese society. Born in 1906, the eldest son of a blacksmith/bicycle repairman, he became fascinated with things mechanical early on. His first glimpse of an automobile at age eight ignited the fire that compelled him to leave home at 15, with only an elementary-school education, to take up an apprenticeship at an auto-repair shop in Tokyo. Soon he opened his own repair shop and began designing, building, and campaigning race cars. One of them damn near killed him in 1936, prompting his wife to kibosh the racing, whereupon he dabbled in metal-casting during the war. When that was over, he once again set his sights on building vehicles.

War-ravaged Japan needed cheap wheels, so Mr. Honda bought 500 surplus engines designed to power field radios and adapted them to drive bicycles. Soon he began building bikes of his own design, and by 1954 Honda was the number-one motorcycle manufacturer in Japan. Five years later, it became the world’s largest, a title it still holds today.

None of this was easy for the nonconformist Honda, whose lack of formal education and penchant for loud clothing locked him out of Japan’s powerful gakubatsu or good-old-boy networks. He also lacked ties to the zaibatsu or large family-run conglomerates for which the government tended to grease skids-skids that became plenty sticky when Mr. Honda went to enter the automotive market.

In the early 1960s, Japan’s Ministry of International Trade and Industry got the notion that it might be able to foster Japanese competitiveness by divvying up the car biz among a few big established players and favoring them with sweetheart export deals. Honda-san was determined to get his four-wheelers on the market before such legislation passed (which it never did), and, after just three years of experimentation, Honda introduced its first cars at the ninth Tokyo motor show in 1962.

Naturally, outsider Honda’s cars were completely different from those of most everybody else. The majority of Japanese manufacturers started out building frumpy entry-level sedans, licensed or copied from existing Western designs-complete with all the bad habits and compromises baked in years earlier on the other side of the globe. Honda began with a clean sheet and a motorcycle mindset. His engineers were different, too; many were misfits who couldn’t get into the more prestigious companies. But Honda’s hands-on, collaborative management style fostered creative thinking and brought out the best in his troops. After testing several engine and driveline configurations, a highly advanced inline-four was chosen. Made of aluminum, it features roller-chain-driven dual overhead cams, hemispherical cross-flow heads, four Keihin side-draft carbs, and a built-up crankshaft that uses seven caged, needle-roller bearings for the mains and connecting-rod big-ends. This setup enables a 9500-rpm redline and can safely spin to above 11,000 revs! (If this sounds like Formula 1 technology, remember that Honda entered F1 racing in 1963, developing a unique 1.5-liter V-12 engine and chassis that won its first race in 1965.)

Mated to a four-speed manual tranny, power flows aft to a chassis-mounted differential connecting to two motorcycle-style chain-drive units that turn the rear wheels and function like trailing arms-truly a novel independent-rear-suspension design. And instead of sedan bodywork, Honda dressed this high-tech chassis as a sport roadster and a little forward-control utility truck.

Styled in-house, borrowing many cues from the Austin Healey Sprite-based Innocenti 950 Spider, the original plan was to offer two roadsters: one sized according to Japan’s low-tax kei microcar formula and one larger for export. But MITI refused to certify the 33-horse S360 as a kei-car on the grounds that it was too sporty (and because Soichiro lacked connections). That version was shelved, while the larger S500, and subsequent S600 and S800 variants went on to sell over 25,000 copies between October 1963 and May 1970. Honda was in the car business.

The original 44-horse S500 was sold only in Japan during the 1964 model year, but the export-friendly S600 was introduced in March 1964 with the option of left-hand-drive and hatchback-coupe bodywork, powered by a stouter engine producing 57 horses and 38 pound-feet of torque. The final S800 variant boasted 70 horses and a 100-mph top speed (10 mph higher than the S600’s).

By 1963, Honda was the top-selling motorcycle brand in the U.S., and Soichiro desperately wished to sell his cars here, but the S-series couldn’t be certified due largely to excessive hydrocarbon emissions. S600s and S800s were sold in Canada, though, and military personnel returning from Japan brought a few back to the U.S.

Scott King’s freshly restored 1965 S600 came here through Canada, so its Denso gauges are marked in English units. Upon first inspection of the car’s fit, finish, and detail refinement, it’s hard to imagine it sold for under $2000 in the day. Simple, well-marked gauges are set in a brushed-aluminum panel with markings tooled into the metal. The engine, laid over at a 45-degree angle to clear the low hood, appears decades more advanced than the iron lumps motivating contemporary British rivals like the MG Midget and Triumph Spitfire, both of which dwarf the S600. The snug-fitting and remarkably weather-tight (according to contemporary reports) folding top attaches with three simple header latches and four snaps on each side, then collapses easily into the well behind the seats-it’s far simpler and more effective than the pup-tents that pass for tops on many Brit roadsters. A fiberglass hardtop was optional, and a wind-deflecting visor that mounts to the windshield header was standard. That crazy chain-drive rear suspension leaves room for the spare to lie in a well under the floor of a reasonably roomy trunk. Brochures in the day crowed that a set of golf clubs would fit-proof that golf bags were way smaller 40 years ago.

Climbing into the S600 requires much flexibility with the top up-less so with it down or for those well under six feet tall, but once seated the passenger has ample space inside. Indeed, the car feels bigger than it looks, like a Lotus Elan (in fact, Soichiro Honda reportedly had a hardtop Lotus Elite at the time). Twist the key, and the motorcycle- style starter spins the crankshaft for just a moment before the engine lights. The 1600-pound roadster launches easily and smoothly with 2000 or more revs, but acceleration is modest until 5000 rpm, when it seems to come alive, as though a VTEC cam lobe had just switched over. Stay in it until at least 7000 rpm (at which point you’ve barely cleared the intersection-this baby is geared short), or the engine will bog in second. Lift for the shift, and there’s a peculiar sound like that of a turbo wastegate closing. Slacking chains maybe? Keep your foot down until well past the 8500-rpm power peak for best results and to enjoy a stirring, surprisingly baritone arpeggio from the engine. Never shrieky, it sounds a lot like a Formula Ford racer-or a modern Honda S2000. The car must be revved for power, as there’s not much torque. And even with gearing at just 10 mph/1000 rpm in fourth, a downshift to third is needed to climb even modest inclines. Launch it with authority, and there’s a peculiar sensation of the rear end rising due to the torque reaction of the chain-drive units. (Talk about inherent anti-squat geometry!) Part way through the S800’s production run, a five-link, coil-sprung, live axle was fitted.

The tiny shifter moves through its wide H-pattern with a delightful mechanical precision. First gear isn’t synchronized, and given that this little revver hates lugging off from 1000 rpm in second, any time the speed drops below five mph, you must stop fully and engage first. This enforces good stop-sign discipline. The low-friction engine doesn’t rev down quickly, and hurrying the shifter can overwhelm the synchros.Contemporary road tests describe the handling as basically flat and neutral, if rather softly sprung. The manual steering is reasonably light even at a stop, and the four-wheel aluminum-finned drum brakes seem up to the task of performing repeated stops while driving up and down a hilly section for photos.

One of the coolest things about this car is its utter lack of parts-bin sharing. Even the turn signal seems to have been engineered from scratch. It makes an odd spooling-up sound before starting its mechanical tick-tock, another soloist in Mr. Honda’s four-wheeled orchestration of whirring gears, chains, shafts, and bearings. King’s restoration deleted the optional radio, and we can’t blame him a bit. Masking this aural rapture with modern music would be heretical.

Successive Hondas were equally quirky and reliable for years to come. And while modern Accords and Civics may seem mainstream, one need look no further than today’s mad-revving S2000 or the forthcoming Honda biz-jet to see that Soichiro’s rebel streak is still alive and well.